I do not own Captain America: Civil War.

Or a fight club.

Fight Club

Fight Club

Sam? There's a little guy crawling on the window over there.

"What the hell is that?!"

It was . . . impressive.

"Everybody's got a gimmick now."

Maybe not to everybody.

The little guy was strong. And fast. Most people, even super people his size, couldn't take down the-

"You have a metal arm?! That's awesome, dude!"

What the hell?! Am I fighting a kid?!

He had a sudden flash of boys in kneepants playing stickball in sidealleys and streets.

And he couldn't quite find it within himself to try to hit him again, at least for the moment.

Which gave Falcon just enough time to take the fight to the air.

Okay, I'll just stay down here then.

Bucky saw it coming and jumped in front of Sam, trying to take the brunt of the hit for him.

It was what he did.

Protected his partners.

No matter what stood between them.

Didn't stop them both from crashing to the floor in a shatter of broken glass and bruised ribs.

Getting webbed down like rats in a trap.

While the kid . . .

". . . gotta impress Mr. Stark . . ."

. . . just kept talking.

Until finally Sam's mechanical bird-drone threw him out the window.

"Ahhhhh!"

Finally. I thought he'd never shut up.

Still . . .

"You couldn't have done that earlier?"

Maybe before we fell twenty feet to the concrete?

"I hate you."

Yeah, almost killing you, I got it.

"Come on, man, get me out of this stuff!"

Bucky Barnes, former deadly asassin and current eater of plums, loomed above the downed and helpless aerial warrior, Sam Wilson.

The metal armed man out of time had somehow managed to wrest himself free of the synthetic webbing which still secured his compatriot to the terminal floor.

"Anytime you're ready there, buddy."

Who seemed understandably annoyed by the outcome of events.

Same as he was.

But Bucky, almost feeling like his old self again, took a brief second to appear to pause and consider it.

"I don't know . . . you wouldn't move your seat up . . ."

One might have detected a slight gloat from the taciturn man.

But Sam only glared up at him from the ground.

"What the hell? Are all super hero old guys dicks?!"

Bucky did smile then.

"Are all flying birdmen?"

And got him up.

Once again face to face with the Catman and his Gleaming Claws of Death, Bucky was just barely managing to keep his face from getting shredded off.

While attempting to reason . . .

"I didn't kill your father!"

. . . with the masked vigilante.

"Then why did you run?!"

It didn't seem to be working.

Are you kidding?!

The answer seemed obvious.

Because you were trying to kill me!

". . . and if I tear myself in half, don't come back for me."

Okay, this was becoming absurd.

Super hero children with spider powers.

Flying metal men.

He didn't even know how to begin to classify the red guy.

And now . . .

"He's going to tear himself in half?"

I miss when you were the strangest thing I'd ever seen, Steve.

Well, that and the Red Skull.

He would have had to fight off a shudder at the hazy recollection of the HYDRA leader.

But then all hell broke loose.

In the form of Scott Lang, a digital wristband, and a red button.

All culminating in a newly giantized, bellowing Antman.

"WHOOOOOAAAAAAA!"

Who seemed really excited, to say the least, of his accomplishment.

And Bucky Barnes simply forgot to run.

He just stood there.

Out in the open.

And stared.

Uh, Steve? Steve?

"Come on, Buck!"

What? Oh, yeah.

"You're not going to stop."

It wasn't a question.

He and Steve had just survived the collapsing air traffic control tower.

Bucky still wasn't sure how, except they had just kept moving.

Which seemed to be the motto of his unnatural life at this point.

And now, the red-haired woman, The Black Widow, Natasha, was all that stood between them and their transport to Siberia to stop a cryogenically frozen force of super soldiers from being awakened and unleashed by a madman.

"You know I can't."

Her strong, resolute face registered a grim lack of surprise.

Bucky thought he should know her. That face. That expression.

It seemed . . . familiar.

The iridescent blue light emitting from her gauntleted wrist was kind of pretty.

Though he suspected it posed some serious threat.

"I'm going to regret this."

She wouldn't be pointing it at them if it didn't.

She set her jaw and Bucky tensed even further, feeling every muscle ready to snap.

Then she fired between them.

Temporarily halting the pursuit of the Black Panther.

"Go."

Steve nodded a thank you and resumed his sprint toward the Quinjet.

Bucky glanced back at her.

Thanks, doll.

But that wasn't something he could say anymore.

That was the old Bucky.

And this was a new and different world.

So he continued to follow Steve past her.

And the new Bucky didn't look back again.

Another little fic of fun, I hope you liked it!

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